


The Darling Buds of May

by ijemanja



Category: Rosemary and Thyme
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 15:45:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2473655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ijemanja/pseuds/ijemanja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Rosemary has no opinion whatsoever on the subject of petunias, but things are said, nonetheless. About petunias. And other things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Darling Buds of May

**Author's Note:**

  * For [possibilityleft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/possibilityleft/gifts).



Rosemary took another pallet of seedlings from the back of the truck, and with her arms full turned to use her backside to shut the door. She headed away from the gravelled drive, across the lawn, and soon was back on her knees in the grass with Laura, trowels out, gloves on. 

This week they were working in the grounds of a retirement community, where the people were all very nice, though of course Rosemary tried not to get too attached. It wasn't their biggest or grandest job by far, just a bit of landscape work to be done, clearing out old, neglected beds, saving as many of the established plants they could while making way for the new. 

After a few days, most of that work was finished, and today they were planting annuals. More precisely, they were planting -

"I don't care what anyone says, there's nothing wrong petunias," said Laura, quite out of nowhere.

Rosemary raised a questioning eyebrow. Had she indicated, in some way - a sound, a sigh, a frown - that she had something against _P. atkinsiana?_ She was the one who'd gone to the nursery and picked out the plants, after all.

"I mean, look at them," Laura pressed on, "they're lovely flowers, who doesn't like a good petunia, I ask you?" 

"Apparently, all these people going around maligning the things."

She could feel Laura's eyes on the top of her head as she bent over her work, making small holes in the earth for said petunias.

"Not all plants can be some rare exotic from Peru."

Rosemary held up a punnet, inspecting it for a moment, trying to see what Laura saw. "They're very... nice," she said.

"Common."

"They're fine. Who doesn't like a bloody petunia? Oh all right, I've no real opinion on the things, really. What's the matter with you?"

"Me? Nothing."

The argument, which wasn't really an argument - well, not an argument about _petunias_ at any rate, or so Rosemary was beginning to suspect - abated then as one of the residents paused her walker on the path nearby to admire their work. She particularly mentioned the petunias; Rosemary held her tongue.

Once the lady was on her tottering way again, Laura sighed. 

Rosemary eyed her across the garden bed. Of course, of all times to take on a job at a retirement community - well, couldn't be helped. But she also couldn't take much more of this mood from Laura, so she leant over and hissed, "You've got your back up about something today."

"I'm sure I don't."

Rosemary sat back on her heels. She considered a cheerful pink bloom before stuffing it in its hole. "Is this about that thing we're not mentioning?"

"What thing?"

"Hm. Quite right."

This time, Laura huffed, and lifted her floppy-brimmed sun-hat to swipe her forehead with the back of her glove. "No, really, what thing? I've no idea what you're talking about."

Rosemary chewed her lip as she decided whether to break the seal of silence on the issue hanging over them like dark, menacing storm clouds - for all that the sky was blue as blue today. Then she gave a mental shrug, discretion be damned. "I'm talking about your birthday."

The clouds broke as Laura smiled. "Oh, so you do know! I thought you must've forgotten."

"Never."

"Better than that ruddy son of mine, then, not a card or a call or anything yet. He's got till this evening before he's officially his father's son. At some point it's not forgetfulness anymore, it's something else."

"For the record, I wasn't being forgetful. I was being considerate. I thought, well, you know."

At that, Laura rolled her eyes. "Rosemary, you're the one who doesn't like birthdays."

"You're right, I don't like birthdays."

"Your own, you mean. You don't have the right to dislike mine too, thanks all the same."

"I didn't mean it that way, I bought you a present and everything. I just thought we weren't mentioning - you know. That you're turning sixty."

Laura blinked for a moment, then went back to trowelling. "Oh, that. Well. You're not spacing those far enough apart, you know. Six inches for the miniatures."

Rosemary looked at her row of petunias, then at Laura's. "Bugger."

"Here." Laura reached to help, shifting over a few feet to settle at Rosemary's side. 

"Bloody petunias."

Laura's shoulder jostled hers. "You did say you've got me a present, didn't you."

"Mm."

"Just as well."

They worked in tandem, as they did so often and so well. Digging, planting, patting down soil; it was simple, methodical work. A bit dull, but not bad on a day like this, with the sun warm but not _too_ warm overhead, and Laura's suddenly much less grumpy presence beside her. Not bad at all.

"Anyway," Rosemary said eventually, "don't they say 'life begins at sixty'?"

"No, that's forty."

"Should be sixty."

"Oh, they're just numbers, aren't they? Life began for me when I met you."

Rosemary frowned and cleared her throat. She ducked her head to focus more intently on her spacing. Six inches for miniatures.

"I think," she said gruffly, "that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Was it? I didn't mean it to be." Laura shrugged, and straightened up to stretch her back. She sat pensively then, bouncing her trowel off her knee. Rosemary barely took any notice at all, so very occupied was she by the infernal petunias. "But I suppose it is a bit romantic, in a way - you know, the way we sort of fell in each other's paths, just when we needed each other. Like it was fate. We only met because we happened to stay at the same inn. Imagine if you'd gone to the one down the street, instead? I don't like to think about it."

Rosemary lifted her head and stared, and kept staring, and finally found her voice. "Laura."

And Laura met her eyes and conceded, "It was more than a bit romantic, I think you're right."

"I'm not very good with romance, never have been. Too sensible."

"You're not that sensible, really," Laura said. "Which one of us is always going off and getting into scrapes?"

"I have the keen intellect and logical mind of a scholar."

"Hah."

"Romance is... difficult." Rosemary shrugged and dug some more in the dirt, because that always made her feel, well, grounded. "You _can't_ be sensible about it, can you? Every time I've ever tried it - well, here I am, not much to show for it. But it's like birthdays - there are exceptions. Special circumstances. Special people, I suppose." 

"I think that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Oh, shut up."

"No one ever said you ever had to be anything other than just as you are. You're just Rosemary; I wouldn't have you any other way."

"You want to... have me?"

"Gosh, I don't know. I've not really thought about it much till now. I guess I didn't think you'd want - well, you know."

"Rubbish. Well, I mean to say. That is. What are we talking about, then? If not - you know."

"Petunias, I guess?"

Rosemary hefted a punnet in her hand. "I'll throw these at you."

"Now, now, none of that." Laura took the threatening seedlings from her and put them aside. "Silly goose, I'm just saying, I like them very much. Here, I'll show you."

Then Laura put her be-gloved hands out to cradle Rosemary's face and draw her in, and Rosemary pushed up on her knees and went. 

And Rosemary had had many affairs in her life, and there'd been plenty of kissing through all of that, but Laura had it right. Life began anew. At sixty or whenever, really, it just needed the chance to bloom and grow.

"See?" Laura said, pulling back, a hopeful smile on her face and her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink.

Rosemary cleared her throat and bit her lip against a too-large grin. "Well. So what do you think?"

"I think you've got soil all over your face, now. Sorry." She held up her hands, gardening gloves thick with dirt.

Rosemary snorted, swiping at her cheeks with her sleeve. "Laura, we're gardeners. When are we not covered in soil?"

Laura looked again at her hands and gave up with a small shrug. "Try again later?"

"Mm." 

This time, as Rosemary focused back on her work, she was smiling. Kneeling in the grass, sun on her back, surrounded by petunias which really weren't such bad little plants after all and _later_ on her mind.

She'd never been very patient - no more than she'd been romantic - but _later_ probably wasn't that far off. 

"Still have to give you your present, don't forget," she said.

Laura sat up straight, the better to emote. "I do believe you've already given me the greatest gift of all with the... _presence_ \- eh?" She elbowed Rosemary, pleased with herself. "Of yourself in my life, and in my hear-"

"Oh would you stop, it's only chocolates."

"Well you certainly know the way to a girl's heart, I'll give you that," Laura said with a laugh.

Rosemary laughed, too, as she twisted round to reach for another lot of plants. "Well. Perhaps I'm the romantic sort, after all. D'you think?"

"You know," Laura said, "I do."


End file.
